


Fantasy 8.2 This Years Love

by UprightIguana, westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist



Category: The West Wing
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-31
Updated: 2012-10-31
Packaged: 2019-05-30 22:07:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15105812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UprightIguana/pseuds/UprightIguana, https://archiveofourown.org/users/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist/pseuds/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist
Summary: Josh and Donna navigate a new relationship and the press.





	Fantasy 8.2 This Years Love

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

EPISODE 8.2 – Written by Shan

This Year’s Love

TEASER

INT. JOSH'S APARTMENT

FEBRUARY 14, 12:30 A.M.

“What are you working on?" Donna eyed Josh over her laptop.

"Work." Josh didn't look up from the mountain of paper he had spread out on the dining table.

"I mean what specifically…"

"It'd be easier to tell you what I'm *not* working on," Josh placed another memo on one of the stacks he'd created in the center of the table and picked another one up off the big pile. "The confirmation, the situation on the Hill, point and counterpoint for the so-called Republican retribution over the pardon, Kazakhstan, you name it."

"So exactly which one of those things is all this stuff?" Donna craned her neck, reading one of the memos in the pile.

Josh snorted disgustedly. "This is everything else. This is what I'm doing instead of reading up on foreign policy and peacekeeping mission logistics, which I desperately need to do."

"Why are you --"

"Ginger Snap, you know I find any conversation with you to be beyond stimulating, but the longer we talk, the more I slow down, which means the longer I'm doing this, the less I sleep."

Donna leaned back in the chair and wrinkled her nose. "Ginger Snap's no good. I don't want a snack food term of endearment."

"You're the only woman I've ever known to actually veto a pet name. All fourteen I've tried," Josh said, losing himself in another memo. "Oh, hell, this should have been done last week." He cleared some space and started a new pile.

"As soon as you come up with a keeper, it'll stick," Donna said. She lolled her head back on the chair and stared at an invisible spot on the ceiling. "You know who Ginger Snap might be cute for, though?

Ginger."

"I'll try to remember that for when I start dating her." He felt the glare she fixed on him and slowly lifted his eyes to hers. "Obviously, what I meant was…"

"Let's go to bed."

Josh blinked. *That* was a hairpin turn. "I wish."

"Your wish could be my command, you know," she teased.

"How bored are you?" he laughed.

"But I'd have to insist you stop talking about people you're going to date *after* me."

"Donna, I have work to do, and so do you." He nodded at her laptop.

She pouted at her screen.

Josh knit his brows together. "*Don't you* have work to do?"

Donna shook her head, almost ashamedly. "Being consulted on flatware and doilies doesn't really take up that much of my time."

Josh rubbed his eyes before picking up another memo. "You don't do anything with doilies."

"I make executive doily decisions." She propped her chin in her hand.

"Donna, you've gotta TALK to her."

"I've tried."

"Not hard enough. I mean, obviously she needs help with the…doily part, too. She's out of her league; that much is obvious to everybody, unfortunately. She doesn't know the first thing about picking an agenda. You, however, do. You've got to get in her face about this and refuse to budge until she cracks." He looked up from the latest memo suddenly. "Wait a minute, what the hell have you been doing all this time if not working?"

Donna tucked her chin down. "Surfing."

He placed both palms flat on the table and leaned forward. "What site?"

"Different ones."

"Donna…"

"The bloggers are going crazy over us."

"Oh, God." He leaned back the chair and scrubbed his face with his hands.

"Don't start. This is not just a personal thing, Josh. This could become a liability for the administration. You're telling me you don't give a damn that people are talking about us?"

"Of course I give a damn." He dropped his hands to the table with a thud. "But I also have to give a damn about Baker, and Kazakhstan, and the Republican Senate, and the mess left to clean up after the pardon, and the endless stream of useless temps filing through my office, and trying to find five spare minutes in a day to say *hello* to you, so on the long list of things that I give a damn about, what bloggers who read _People_ think of us is at the very bottom of the list!"

Donna bit her bottom lip, then dropped her eyes back down to her laptop. "Sorry."

Josh folded his forearms over the pile of papers in front of him and breathed out heavily. He stood, pressing a kiss to her temple before picking up his empty coffee mug and heading toward the kitchen. "I understand, Donna. I do. If I had time to think about it, I'm sure it would bother me, too. It's just…God, I don't know how Leo did this for seven years."

Donna was absentmindedly sifting through the papers on the table. "He had Margaret, that's how. Josh…what is all this?"

"My inbox." He came back around the corner with a refill. "I've got to get it farmed out."

"You're sorting out your *own* inbox?" Donna dug deeper into the stack in disbelief. "Josh, this was the kind of stuff we did when you were deputy. Give it to your deputy!"

Josh shook his head. "I need him to focus on finding some solid footing on the Hill. This is gonna be in a 10-round fight for Baker, I can feel it."

"I thought you thought it was a bluff."

"I did," he sighed. "It was. But I think calling them on it just made them mad as hell, so…"

"Now it's really a thing." Donna frowned in disapproval at several memos she'd begun to separate from the stack. "Some of this stuff shouldn't even have been sent to the CoS office in the first place. It should have been rerouted to Operations, Communications. For God's sake, this one belongs over at Treasury." She clucked her tongue softly in disapproval. "You need an assistant, Josh. A permanent one."

"Had one," Josh yawned. "Decided I enjoyed sleeping with her more."

Donna looked up. "That's not funny. Not with the magazine."

"I don't give a damn about the magazine."

"You *think* you don't give a damn about it. But if this thing becomes a living creature, you'll sing a different tune." She shook her head as she started a new pile of paperwork. "I don't know if this is gonna go away on its own."

"It's gonna go away," he yawned. "Are you…what are you doing, are you helping me now?"

Donna moved her laptop out of the way and started sorting at triple Josh's previous speed. "You shouldn't be spending your time on this."

"But…you should?"

"No, I'm helping you. It's something girlfriends do." Josh stared at her with something bordering on amazement. "But you should know in advance that I'm going to expect reciprocity."

"What kind of reciprocity?"

"I'm doing this in exchange for sexual favors."

Josh sat bolt upright. "Sorting faster. Sorting much faster."

Half an hour later, Donna had efficiently organized everything by destination department and dropped it into an accordion file, which was now nestled next to Josh's briefcase. Donna and Josh were burrowed deep into the couch, where he was kissing her for all he was worth, having every intention of making good on his debt.

"Did you mean what you said about Valentine's Day? That you didn't want a big deal made out of it?" Josh asked against her neck.

"Absolutely," Donna panted. "Why?"

"I made dinner reservations at--"

"Cancel them."

"You might want to hear me out before you say that. They're pretty good reservations. You wouldn't *believe* the pull I've got now. And I thought I could get a good table before."

"I don't want next week's _People_ to feature `A Capitol Valentine's Day.' Cancel them."

"This is ridiculous." Josh pulled back to look at her. "All I want is to take my woman to dinner and eat a good steak, why is that so wrong?"

"What are you not doing right now that you should be?"

"You have an IOU for sexual favors, as I recall," Josh bent his head to her neck again.

"That's right, I…do. Oh, God. Oh, God, Josh, I *love* that. Oh, GOD--"

Josh clamped a hand over her mouth. "What the hell is the matter with you? The agent's right on the other side of the door!" He nodded across the room.

"Josh, do you have any idea what the Secret Service witnesses every day? Even if the thing with the picture had never happened, they know I've been sleeping here since November. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure it out from there. They couldn't care less whether you're getting any or not. If anything, I'd think you'd *want* me to be loud."

"He always gives me these…I don't know, these looks the next morning. It creeps me out. It's like he says, `Good morning, Mr. Lyman,' but you just know he's thinking, `Heard you having loud sex with your girlfriend last night, Mr. Lyman.'"

"You are a lunatic." She slid out from under him.

"Giving me a detail is ludicrous anyway, but having them sit out there and *listen* is just…I don't know, it…it fills me with ire." He sat up on the couch.

"Ire?"

"Ire, I have decided, is what it fills me with."

"Come to bed, crazy man."

"Yeah, I'm gonna have to veto that particular pet name myself."

Donna tugged on his hand. "Hey, I don't think you've found five minutes to say hello to me yet today."

"Hmm," Josh pulled her close and kissed her again. "A situation I will have to remedy immediately."

Donna nodded. "Just one second."

She crossed the room and opened the front door before Josh realized what she was doing.

"Rodney."

The Secret Service agent on duty turned. "Did you need something, Miss Moss?"

"I just wanted to let you know that Mr. Lyman and I are going to be having some rather loud sex in the bedroom. If you heard anything, I didn't want you to think it's someone trying to kill him. Well, it might be, but…it's only me." She grinned ear-to-ear.

The agent's mouth quirked ever so slightly before he regained total composure. "Understood, Miss Moss."

Josh, who'd been gaping until this point, buried his face in his hands and disappeared from the line of sight of the door. 

"He gets a little shy," Donna said in a stage whisper. "Best not to bring it up to him."

"The Secret Service prides itself on practicing the utmost discretion regarding the personal lives of its protectees, ma'am."

Donna smiled sweetly. "Good night, Rodney."

She closed the door to find Josh glaring at her with his hands on his hips.

"We can't have dinner in public, but you can announce to a man with a gun and, I'm pretty sure, a license to kill that we're about to do it."

"Josh, you heard the man. The Secret Service practices the utmost discretion." She took him by the hand and pulled him to the bedroom. "No more stalling. You knew the terms of the deal. Pay up."

Josh couldn't help but smile as he kicked the bedroom door closed behind him.

SMASHCUT TO TITLES

ACT I

INT. JOSH'S CAR, 6:07 AM

Josh answered his chirping cell without looking up from the pad he was writing on. "Yeah."

"Did you get called in?" Donna asked sleepily.

"Good morning," his voice softened immediately, but when his driver glanced at him in the rear view mirror he fixed him with a glare that was a sharp contrast to his tone.

"Good morning," Donna drawled. "Is something happening? Sit room?"

"No," Josh said. "I wanted to get an early start. I have a stop to make before I go to the office."

"What kind of stop?" Donna groaned, and Josh could tell by her voice she was stretching lazily. His favorite moment of the morning was watching Donna stretch like a cat, naked in his bed.

"Today's the day, Donna. I was inspired last night."

"I'm quite inspirational."

He grinned. "No, I didn't mean that. Though, yes…you are. I'd compare you to a religious experience, but with the language you were using--"

"What was your inspiration?"

"I'm bringing her in."

Donna sat up in bed. "How? She said no twice."

"I'm gonna convince her," Josh said confidently. "It's the only way I'm gonna be able to do this. I'm going under already, and we're less than a month in. She's the only one available who can do this."

"She'd argue she's not available."

"And I'd argue otherwise. Whatever it takes, I'm not leaving until I get a yes."

Donna's hand went to her heart unconsciously. She was pretty successful these days at controlling her protective streak where Josh was concerned, but with her growing boredom in the First Lady's office, and seeing how overworked he was, she was half-tempted to say she'd take the job herself. "I can call ahead of you. Try to soften up the ground a little."

"Nah, then it will look like we're ganging up on her," Josh said. "I think I'm just gonna ask. Nicely. Appeal to her sense of patriotic duty."

"In other words you're gonna guilt her into it."

"Just call me Machiavelli."

"So I take it you didn't have any issues with Rodney this morning?"

"Au contraire, my little nymph," Josh snarled. "I opened the door, and he looked me up and down and up again. Like he was…I don't know, undressing me with his eyes."

"Oh, for God's sake."

"I feel so violated."

"Are you saying all this right in front of him?"

Josh looked at the back of his driver's head. "No, it's the…other one. The daytime one."

"Mark."

"Mark!"

"Yes, sir?"

Josh froze. "I, uh, nothing. Never mind, Mark."

On the other end of the line, Donna giggled.

"Thank you for that one," he said into the phone.

"Be sweet to her, Josh. You're really hard to resist when you're sweet."

"Which is always."

"That, right there, is a perfect example of what *not* to do."

"Gotcha. I'll see you at work." He flipped his phone shut just as something outside caught his eye. "Hey, pull over a second."

The car pulled to a stop and Josh opened the door, only to be met in the next instant by Mark, who had fixed him with his own disapproving glare.

EXT. WASHINGTON STREET CORNER, CONTINUOUS

"What did you do wrong just then, sir?"

"This is so damned ridiculous…" Josh whined.

"There's a procedure, Mr. Lyman. I get you out of the car. I enter rooms in front of you. We've been over this."

"You think this flower vendor is in fact an assassin in disguise who knew that I was going to be on this route, which I am not usually on, and that 30 feet back I would spontaneously decide I needed flowers?!?"

"There's no need to make a scene, sir." The agent was totally unperturbed. "There is, however, a need for me to get you out of the car. Do we understand each other?"

Josh put his hands up in surrender, but did nothing to take the disgusted look off his face. "After you." He motioned to the vendor.

The fascinated flower vendor watched as the agent surveyed the scene quickly, then cleared the way for Josh to approach him. "How can I help you?"

"Uh…do you have anything that's not roses?"

"New relationship?"

"I'm sorry?"

"This is a new relationship? The girlfriend, you think it might be too soon for roses?"

"No, it's…I mean, yes, it's new, but not…these aren't for my girlfriend. They're for…it's more a business gift. I don't think it needs to be roses."

"Business…are you trying to impress?"

Josh snorted. "No. I'm trying to…I'm trying to seem nice. *Be* nice, I mean. Be nice."

"I've got some assorted bouquets…nothing too out of the ordinary, but they're…nice."

"Good. I'll take one of those."

The vendor pulled out the flowers but instead of quoting Josh a total, simply folded his arms over his chest. "And what else?"

"That's all," Josh said, flipping through his wallet.

"You've got the roses for the girlfriend taken care of, then?"

Josh snapped his head up, sure this guy was making a wiseass remark off the magazine cover, but the man's expression revealed nothing more than a guy looking to make a sale.

"I've…well, I've kinda been let off the hook for that."

"How's that?"

"She's said she doesn't want to do anything special for Valentine's Day."

The vendor cocked his head to the side. "Of course she doesn't."

"No, I know what you're thinking, but she means it."

"New relationship?"

"Um…no. Yes. On this level, yes."

"She doesn't mean it."

Josh's brow furrowed instantly. "She doesn't?"

"Of course not. She's just *acting* like she doesn't care. It's what women do."

"It is?"

"Absolutely."

Josh looked off down the street for a moment. "I don't know, she was pretty adamant about it. I think she means it."

"She just wants you to *think* she means it. She doesn't want you to do it because you think she expects you to. She wants you to do it because you want to."

"I *did* want to!" Josh shouted to the mostly empty street. "She was the one who put the kibosh on things! No dinner, no presents, no flowers." He scuffed his shoe on the ground and then leaned toward the vendor conspiratorially. "You're saying she didn't *mean* any of that?"

The vendor shrugged. "What do I know? But let me ask you this. Your girlfriend, she works in an office?"

"Yes."

"So it's Valentine's Day, and everyone is getting flowers, all day long. Roses for the secretaries, roses for the bosses, roses for the girl who gets the coffee, roses, roses, everywhere. For everyone. But her. Picture that scenario, and then ask yourself if you're gonna have a good night tonight if you do as she asked."

"Oh, my God." Josh's eyes were the size of golf balls. "I am an idiot."

"Don't feel bad," the vendor comforted. "Rookie mistake."

"At my age," he mumbled. "No wonder I've been a bachelor so long."

"I'm sorry?"

"Nothing. Look, just get me the biggest ones you've got."

The vendor reached into a box and pulled out a bouquet of giant sunflowers with red-tinged petals.

Josh started. "I meant the biggest roses you've got."

"This is better."

"Why?!?" His head was beginning to pound.

"Well, for one thing, they're more expensive."

"That's why it's better for *you*. Why is it better for me?"

"Same reason. She'll know, and so will all the women she works with. Everybody's gonna have roses, come on! But NOBODY will have this. Nobody but her."

"They're HUGE, they look like John Bunyan's sunflowers."

"I thought you wanted to make a statement."

Josh took another look at the bouquet. "I'll take `em."

EXT. DC APARTMENT

6:39 A.M.

"Miss Weber," the agent greeted her when she opened the door.

"Mark," Margaret sighed. "Come on in. The little wriggly creature in the high chair is not a terrorist, so please don't, you know, tackle him."

"Yes, ma'am."

The agent stepped inside to reveal Josh standing on her doorstep. She leaned against the open door. "Well if it isn't the Capitol Casanova."

Josh opened his mouth to protest, but changed his mind at the last second. "That's funny," he said with a forced joviality.

"Like hell it is. Why are you here?"

"All clear, sir." The agent stepped out to the doorstep.

"Can I come in?"

"No," she said. "Why are you here?"

Josh looked back at the agent and grimaced a little. "For just a minute? I'm sure the cold can't be good…can't be good for the kid." He nodded toward the baby, who happily hurled a handful of cereal to the floor.

She stepped back, allowing him passage.

"Hey, there, little guy," Josh said, approaching the baby as if it were an armed bomb. "How you doing? Oh, these are for you." He turned around and thrust the flowers at her before stepping out of the baby's throwing range. "He's getting big."

"He grows. That's what babies do. Josh…"

"Please come back."

"Oh, God, not today with this."

"Yes, today. Right now. Today. I've been waiting for you to come to your senses, and today's the day."

"There's nothing wrong with my senses. I said no. I meant it the first time I said it. I meant it the second time I said it. I mean it now. No. Have a nice day." She opened the door, but Josh closed it again.

"Look, I know you wanted a break from it. But you've had that. I need you back. If you won't stay permanently, then fine. Stay long enough to get the office back in order and help me hire and train a replacement. But the temps can't touch what you can do, and I need help. Badly. Extremely badly. Donna says I need you, and I believe her. Come back."

"Josh, I was done. I wasn't even going to stay with CJ the last year, but I did. I'm more than done. It's time to move on."

Josh stared at his feet. "Is it…do you want more out of the job? More responsibility, more challenges? Because I would…I mean, I know, you've probably heard all the gory details of how I didn't do that, but I've learned my lesson, and if it would convince you to come back, we'd adjust the job description however you needed to. You were hitting your head on the top of the pay scale before, but I'll ask to have it adjusted, and we could even flex your hours, you know, so you could see the kid--"

"You think I want something more challenging than what I was doing? I loved that job, Josh."

"You just don't want to do it for me." Josh guessed. "I know, I'm… not the easiest guy in the world to work for. I'd promise you no yelling, but I think we both know it would be a lie. I promise I'll always apologize for it, though. I mean, if there's something in particular that's a deal breaker…"

"Things aren't meant to stay the way they were forever, Josh. I did good work for the Bartlet administration, and I'm proud of it. It's time to move on. People don't stay forever."

"I'll be as flexible as I possibly can with your schedule so you can be with the baby as needed. I mean, hell, if you want to hire your OWN assistant, I'm all for it."

"Josh…" she sighed.

Josh took a deep breath. "I've been through four temps since we took office, and none of them holds a candle to you on your very worst day. My phone calls aren't getting returned, my office is hemorrhaging paperwork, the staff barrels right past the assistants and monopolizes my time, I'm missing meetings, I've got things that have been in my inbox for a week that don't even belong in the *building*. I was still working at 1 this morning, which is a great thing to have happen on a regular basis when you're advising the president, and you've got troops overseas in a war zone. I will work with you in every way I can, but I'm sorry. Margaret, on behalf of the President of the United States, I'm asking you to serve your country. As only you can."

Margaret sank to the arm of the couch. "You're really serious about this."

"Yes."

"Josh," she looked down at the bouquet in her hands. "I--I don't know what to say. I don't know if I've got two more terms in me. I don't know if I've got ONE more term in me."

"Say you'll do it on a trial basis, and if you find you can't, you'll help me fill the position with someone who can do the job and deal with me. Say I owe you until the end of time. Say you want me to get on my knees and beg. Say whatever you want, as long as one of the things you say is yes."

Margaret watched as the baby hurled his entire bowl to the floor. "I'd need a few hours to find someone to keep him today. And I'm going to need to shop around for day cares if I can't get him back on at his old center."

Josh's eyebrows shot into his hairline. "Yes?"

Margaret sighed, but nodded. "Yes."

"Yes!" Josh raised both fists over his head.

"On a trial basis, Josh."

"Gotcha." He bounced happily on his heels before charging forward and enveloping her in a brief bear hug. "Oh, Margaret you have no idea how much I appreciate this. You'll like it, you'll see." He pulled back. "Ahkay, I gotta go. I'll see you at work. See ya, kid!" he called over his shoulder as he opened the door.

Margaret closed the door as Josh followed the agent down the steps and leaned against it. "You'll like it, you'll see," she mimicked. "Josh thinks Mommy just fell off the turnip truck yesterday, doesn't he, Jack?" Margaret cooed to her giggling son.

END ACT I

ACT II

INT. CHIEF OF STAFF OUTER OFFICE, 8:55 AM

"It looks like vandals broke in and ransacked the room," Margaret said into the receiver. She was looking unusually small as she sat in her desk chair, surrounded by boxes and impossibly high stacks of paper.

CUT TO: INT. FLOTUS CoS OFFICE, CONTINUOUS

"I find that unlikely." Donna leaned back in her chair and swung back and forth a little. "We have pretty good security here."

CUT TO: INT. OUTER CoS OFFICE, CONTINUOUS

"Do you have any idea how perfectly organized this place was when I left it? You worked for him all those years, how did he manage to *do* this in three weeks?"

"I've seen him do considerably worse with a lot less time, believe me. Are you glad to be back?"

"No." Margaret looked down at the box in her hands. There were much bigger boxes in the room that she would have to deal with today, but this one was the most daunting.

"Is he being `him' already?" Donna's voice came over the receiver.

"It's nothing like that. I just have a feeling this is going to be a trying day. Actually, I haven't seen him yet. Is it possible he had a meeting first thing?"

CUT TO: INT. FLOTUS CoS OFFICE, CONTINUOUS

From her seated position, Donna craned her neck to get a good look at the sunflower arrangement that towered above her. "I'm pretty sure he's in the building."

"I called Jack's day care center, and they were expecting me. Your doing?"

"My suggestion," Donna lazily scrolled through the day on her PDA. "To make things a little easier on you. I didn't pull any strings. Hey, do you want to have lunch?"

CUT TO: INT. OUTER CoS OFFICE, CONTINUOUS

"You get a lunch now? Climbing the ladder has its benefits." Margaret nearly knocked over one of the paper piles when Josh came barreling through the door, startling her. "I have to go." She hung up the phone and rounded the desk to follow Josh, only to realize she was still carrying the box she'd been holding while talking to Donna. She tossed it back toward her desk, but didn't have time to wait and see that it landed in a suitable place. Josh was already off to the races.

INT. CoS OFFICE, CONTINUOUS

"It's the White House Situation Room, and we're all grown men, I don't know why I'm always made to feel like I'm seven seconds from getting my ass kicked because I'm not one of the world's foremost experts on modern warfare." He turned to find Margaret standing frozen, just inside his office door. "I'm sorry. Hi. I'm glad you're here."

Margaret nodded stiffly.

"You have any trouble getting the kid back on at his old day care?"

"Oddly, no. They had an opening in his class just this morning."

"Imagine that," Josh smirked.

"Thank you, but you shouldn't do that kind of thing."

Josh blinked, then opened the top folder in his inbox. "I don't know

what you mean."

"Yeah." She took another look around the room and swallowed hard. "You changed it."

"What?"

Margaret gestured toward the desk, then the sitting area. "CJ had it…"

"Oh. Yeah, I hated that setup, made no sense. I just told them to put everything back the way Leo had it."

"That they did," Margaret said. "Right down to the last stick of furniture. Right down to the paint."

"Yeah, the other way just didn't…feel right. But CJ has left her mark. On occasion, I still catch a whiff of something that smells suspiciously like potpourri. If you know where she's hidden that, get rid of it. Other than that, um…my desk is somewhere under all this mess. My inbox, which was just cleaned out last night, is full again. As you've seen, your office is a federal disaster area. You know where everything goes, so…have at it." He looked at his watch. "I've got senior staff."

"I can't find your schedule. Where were the temps --"

He pulled his Blackberry out of his pocket. "They weren't. It's all on there." He plopped the device into her hand and spun around in a circle. "Have you seen an accordion file--"

"Are you serious?!"

"An obsessively organized one?"

"Oh. On my desk."

"See? Useful already. Just as I predicted." He headed for the door.

"Yeah, you're a regular clairvoyant."

Josh scooped up the file and hustled back through his office toward the Oval.

"Oh, I have reservations at Kinkead's tonight. I need you to call and confirm for me. Just do your thing. Shout if you need anything. You'll be great."

The door closed, and Margaret took another look around the eerily familiar room, unsure whether it was greatly comforting or deeply unsettling.

CUT TO: INT. OVAL OFFICE

"So you're telling me not to worry," Josh heard Santos ask as he opened the door.

"We always see a spike in threats anytime the military's been mobilized," Ron Butterfield answered. "We investigate every threat, and if we find who made it, they've got to answer for it. But there's a difference between threats and credible threats."

"There is?"

"Credible threats are the guys who actually want to kill you. The other threats are just the people who don't like you and are a little too eager to express themselves," Josh said as he approached the desk. 

"What did I ever do to them?" Santos shrugged.

"You got elected." Josh shifted his files under his arm. "Good morning, Mr. President."

"Did you know we see a spike in threats when the military's mobilized?"

"Yeah, it's the peace crazies," Josh said.

"People who love peace are gonna try to kill me?"

Josh looked at Ron. "Are the credibles spiking?"

Ron shook his head. "Unsubstantiated, mostly."

"So, no, sir, they're not gonna try to kill you, they're just gonna try to scare you. But you shouldn't let them, because they're all talk. Never back down from a bully."

Santos chortled. "Thanks, Dad."

"Anything else I can do for you, sir?" Ron asked.

"Yes," Josh said over Santos' shake of the head. "While you're here, I've got a thing."

"Josh, the agent walks in front of you in a crowded place. How else is he supposed to do his job?"

"What, did he run straight to you?" Josh objected.

"The procedures are in place for a legitimate reason--"

"Whatever. I just wanted to tell you I'm waiving my right to a detail."

Santos nearly choked on his coffee. "What the hell? We can do that? `Cause as long as these threats aren't credible, then--"

"Good morning, Mr. President." Sam entered from the Outer Oval. "Somebody threatening you, sir?"

"Yeah, but I'm not gonna back down, see, because they're all talk."

"Good for you, sir," Sam came to stand beside Josh. "If you stand up for yourself, you'll gain their respect."

"I think the two of you are working from the same book of lame one-liners." Santos gestured between Josh and Sam.

"You've got to have your detail, sir," Josh said, then turned back to Ron. "But putting a four-person detail on me is an unnecessary waste of resources. I know there's paperwork I've got to sign, so go

ahead and pull it together."

"You don't have a four-person detail. You have a one-person detail with three shifts and an alternate, which is one less than I'd prefer to have on you at a time, but I'm trying to be accommodating," Ron said. "Secondly--"

"The only way to make them accommodating is to make them go away."Josh put his hands on his hips.

"Secondly, there are certain requirements for the Chief of Staff that--"

"Which I am hereby absolving you of," Josh said. "Draw up the paperwork."

Ron and Josh stared at each other for two beats before Ron dipped his chin and stepped toward the door. "We'll work on it. Thank you, Mr. President."

"You're ditching your detail?" Sam asked softly as Lou, Otto, and Lester filed in.

"Yeah, I've had it."

Sam nodded thoughtfully. "Are you sure that's wise?"

"Let me tell you what's not wise: attracting attention by walking around town with an armed guard. I stop to pick up coffee filters, and he's got to walk five feet ahead of me and clear the aisle. I gave it time, but now I'm done. Nobody cares about me, anyway."

The President clapped him on the shoulder as the staff took their seats. "You shouldn't talk like that Josh, we all care."

"I appreciate that, sir." Josh opened his folio. "So…our luck's still holding in Kazakhstan. No further bad news on the troops since the Kiowa."

"I thought we'd had some injuries since last night." Sam pushed his glasses higher on his nose.

"We did. No fatalities, though."

"Tell me it wasn't another chopper," Lou said.

"Roadside bomb got a tank." Josh stared at nothing for a moment while he scratched at his temple. "Our guys will all pull through, though. At least that's what they think right now."

"OK, so, we just do basics in the press room and refer them to DoD for more details," Lou looked at Lester.

"Do we have to leave it to DoD?" Lester asked. "If we've got dibs, I'd love any opportunity to shift the backward focus I've got in the room right now."

"It's more appropriate to let DoD have it," Sam said.

"How're you doing on Baker?" Santos asked.

"We're getting there," Sam said, eyes suddenly fixed on his notepad.

"How was your breakfast with Brownleigh?" Josh asked.

"It was fine." Eyes still glued to his own handwriting.

Josh shook his head. "What, Sam?"

He looked up, then around the room. "Brownleigh's hearing rumblings. Dissatisfaction with Baker as the nominee."

Josh furrowed his brow. "That's nothing new."

"From the yellow dogs."

The room erupted into exclamations of frustration and disbelief.

Santos leaned forward in his chair. "So the blue dogs don't like him, the moderates have issues, the Republicans SURE don't like him, and now the yellow dogs want to get in on the action?"

"Clearly, we have a few obstacles in our path at the moment, sir. But I'm just getting started on the Hill."

"What is going *on* up there?" Josh muttered to himself. "Do you know what's turning them?"

Sam looked uncomfortable. "I'll get into it."

"Yeah, me, too." Sam looked up, somewhat startled, but Josh didn't notice as he barreled right ahead. "Communications."

"We seem to be having a little trouble focusing the press," Lou reported.

"They seem plenty focused to me, just not on what we want," Lester said.

"We've got to expect Kazakhstan's gonna be at the top of their list of interests, but I want education to be number two, even if it's only a distant number two for now," Santos said.

"Unfortunately, at the moment, it's a distant third," Lou said, eyeing Josh carefully. "We're losing coverage to the magazine incident."

Josh stared her down, face tight. "We're not still talking about this."

"Well, yeah." Lou looked skyward in exasperation. "As long as they're still talking about it out there, we'll still be talking about it in here."

"It gets brought up eventually in every gaggle," Lester said. "We need to put this thing to bed. We're losing news cycle after news cycle to this."

"WHY?!" Josh spread his hands. "It's the White House Press Corps, not Entertainment Tonight."

"People are curious, Josh," Lou said. "The corps is less than thrilled to have to do this, but if one outlet is covering it, they've all got to cover it to compete."

"A problem we would not have right now if our new press secretary hadn't set a reporter loose among the senior staff on his *first day on the job*."

"I didn't *know* she was--" Lester started, then thought better of it. "Yes, sir."

"Anyway," Lou broke the silence after a moment. "We wanna move them off this."

"Yeah, me, too," Josh pouted.

"We did a little brainstorming…" Otto started.

"And we've come up with a plan we think will drive a stake through the heart of the beast," Lester finished.

"Yeah?"

"We think you should do an interview. Both of you. Together," Lou said.

"Under no circumstances whatsoever."

"Do you mind if I ask why NOT?"

"Because the White House does not comment on the personal lives of its staff, that's why not."

"We've been trying that strategy for two weeks, Josh, it's not working." Lou ran a hand through her hair. "Look, it's mostly harmless, if a little uncomfortable. There's no Second Couple, so the two of you sorta naturally rose to the forefront. You've got this his-and-hers chiefs of staff thing, which is so cute I could puke. Plus you've got history. People are curious."

"Just because they're curious doesn't give them the right to know. Our history is *our* history. Change the story."

"That's what we're trying to do! Do an interview, suffer for an hour or two, grin stupidly at each other, and this monkey's off our backs. Keep quiet, and this monster will feed itself on rampant speculation, growing from nothing to tawdry to full-out scandal where none existed, and it could follow us through the first 100 days and beyond."

"*I'm* not gonna let it do that," Santos spoke up, startling his staff, who had become so engrossed in the conversation they forgot themselves for a moment. "I want the education initiative and Baker's impending confirmation--a confirmation we will make sure sails--to become the secondary focus for the media after Kazakhstan, and I want Josh's love life moved off the radar, pronto. I don't care how we do it--if you don't like the interview, come up with something else. But let's dispense of it…quickly."

Josh's gaze fell to the carpet. "Yes, sir."

"Anything else?"

They all answered with a shake of the head.

"Thank you, everybody." Santos stood, and the staff filed out, reassembling on the other side of the closed door.

INT. OUTER OVAL

"Interview's the fastest way to get this done, Josh," Lou said.

"You mean it's the easiest way for you," Josh muttered. "There are other ways to change the story. Sam's gonna work with you. Have alternatives ready for me by the end of the day."

Sam's eyes went wide as he watched Josh's retreating back. "Why don't you brainstorm a couple more options, and I'll take a look at them later," he told Lou before following Josh.

INT. HALLWAY

"Hey," Sam jogged up beside him and lowered his voice. "I know you're not happy about this, but I think she's right."

"There are other ways to do this," Josh sighed, looking back toward the Outer Oval. "I think this Comm staff is just too green. I want you to give them a little guidance."

"I don't really think they need it," Sam said. "I support their plan."

Josh stopped short. "You want Donna and me to do a stupid Barbara Walters--"

"Absolutely not. It should be somebody from the corps. There's another story brewing, Josh, beneath the `aren't they cute' angle. She worked for you, not so very long ago. She *worked* for you. And she did it here. And now you're both back here, and the press is beginning to ask questions about when this started, and what else has happened. What sort of illicit things were the two of you up to on this sacred ground?" 

"You know damn well--"

"It's their job, Josh. Those questions aren't entirely without merit. And they're coming; they're already ramping up to them. Lester's getting pummeled in the room."

"Aren't you the guy who thought it was a travesty that you couldn't be friends with a hooker because of press backlash?"

"Call girl."

Josh exhaled, closing his eyes. "Donna's stuck on it. She's absolutely fixated on what everyone's saying. I wanted a little more… We just wanted a little more time before this became public."

Sam nodded. "But it has. People want to know what's going on, Josh. You should tell them. Because in the absence of an answer from you and Donna, people will listen to whoever's doing the talking, credible or not, accurate or not. Talk to Donna about it. See what she says."

Josh started walking again. "I haven't gotten her a Valentine's Day gift yet."

"You're coming down to the wire."

"I know, I just…she's doing this thing where she's insistent that I not make a big deal out of it, so I didn't, but then the flower guy this morning said that maybe she was just saying that but didn't mean it."

"I think the flower guy oughta be the one making the big bucks."

"What did you get Laurie?"

Sam took him by the arm and pushed him into a corner. "LaurEN!" he whispered harshly. LaurEN! Laurie was the hook--call girl."

Josh's eyes went wide. "Oh, man, what are the odds of that?"

"I need you to never make that slip in front of her."

"If I ever actually met her, I'm sure…well, now I'm sure I'll end up doing it. Self-fulfilling prophecy. What did you get her?"

Sam started down the hall again. "Something in a Tiffany's box. It worked when I proposed."

Josh leaned his head to the side. "There's an idea. I haven't really given her a…there really hasn't been a major gift-giving occasion yet. I mean, Christmas, and Hanukah, but we always did that. We just sorta went a little bigger this year."

"Then you probably ought to make sure you don't blow this one. No pressure."

"No kidding. Hey, I put a meeting on your schedule. We're being named in a nuisance lawsuit, something coming out of the Pacific Northwest."

"What is it?"

"I don't know, really, something about a chemical munitions depot and possible groundwater contamination. EPA guidelines may or may not have been followed as closely as they should have by the Army. There's an initial meeting with opposing counsel today, you'll get the background documents then. Get into it, then let me know what's going on."

"I was gonna be back up on the Hill this afternoon."

"This is just something to do in your spare time," Josh deadpanned.

"Okay…Josh?"

"Yeah?"

"This is…I mean, of course, whatever you need…I mean, I'm more than happy to help in any way I can. You seemed less than pleased with my handling of things on the Hill, is all. And you wanted me in on press strategy, and now you've got me pinch hitting for White House counsel, and I just…"

"I know, I've got you all over the place. But I just…right now, while we're starting up, I need somebody I trust doing the important things."

"They're all important things."

"Just for right now. Oh," he hoisted the accordion file he'd been lugging up a little higher. This needs to be farmed out. Your office, communications, legislative liaison."

Sam studied the file tabs. "Didn't you used to do this for Leo when you were Deputy? Why didn't you--"

"Hey, I'm sorry about the Hill thing, I just…I'm sorta used to that being my domain, is all."

Sam looked up from the file. "I'll figure out what's happening up there, OK?"

Josh nodded. "OK. I've gotta talk to Donna." 

"You should."

"I am."

"And you should go to Tiffany's."

"I think you're right," Josh disappeared through the double doors.

"I'm always right," Sam said to himself.

INT. OFFICE OF THE FIRST LADY, RECEPTION AREA

"Well if it isn't the Sunflower King," Annabeth teased when Josh popped through the door.

Josh beamed. "Well, word travels fast."

"You can see them from Pennsylvania Avenue, word didn't have to travel. What brings you to the east side of the building?" 

"I came to see the boss, could you…" Josh turned toward Donna's assistant, who buzzed Donna's office.

"You can go on in," Donna's assistant said as she hung up the phone.

"Thanks. I'll see you later."

"Bye," Annabeth called as he disappeared behind Donna's closed door. "Sunflowers." She laid a hand over her heart. "So original. So sweet." She turned to Donna's assistant. "You know, some of them cost more than even roses do this time of year."

 

INT. FLOTUS CoS OFFICE, CONTINUOUS

Despite the fact that she'd told herself she wasn't going to do it anymore, Donna had been staring at a two-week-old edition of People. The photo was grainy for a magazine, but clear enough to see all the necessary details. There she was in her shimmery dress, kissing her boyfriend while she'd thought they were completely out of sight. The headline, "Joint Chiefs," had been too cutesy for her taste, and she hated the fact this was out there for public consumption, especially the accompanying text that touched on their respective close calls during the Bartlet years and her "skyrocketing" career. But the picture…she couldn't stop staring at herself, being kissed by the man who was finally free to kiss her. Some kind of strange voyeurism. Freud would have a field day.

She shoved the magazine in her top desk drawer when the door opened.

"Hello, my little sunflower."

"Veto," she said immediately. "Well, if it isn't the boy with no long-term memory."

Josh stopped in his tracks. "What?"

"What part of `don't make a big deal out of it' did you have difficulty with?"

Josh's eyes grew wide, then darted around the room. "I thought you were just…saying that."

"I think you'll find, Josh, that things will be much easier for you when you don't think and simply listen."

"It's not a big deal; I didn't make a big deal," he backpedaled. "They're just flowers."

"They toppled the first vase I put them in."

"I don't know what that means."

"That they're GINORMOUS, and you don't get to use the word `just' in front of them."

"Did you actually just say *ginormous*?"

"Don't change the subject."

"Annabeth thought I did well."

Donna's face dropped a little, and she looked suddenly pained. "Annabeth's kinda having a hard time today. She doesn't have… since…there's nobody to send her…" She leaned forward suddenly and planted a chaste kiss on his lips before wrapping her arms around his shoulders. "Thank you for my flowers."

"What's eating you today?" he said into her hair.

"I met with the First Lady for a little while this morning," Donna said, taking a step back. "It…did not go like I'd hoped."

"Agenda?"

"I was hoping we could brainstorm a few things." Donna stepped around the desk and dropped into her chair dejectedly. "But what ended up happening was I suggested things, hoping she'd springboard

off of it, and she didn't so much springboard off as she did…shrug her shoulders and say noncommittally that each one of those ideas `might be nice'."

"That's what you call talking to her?"

"I tried!"

"The hell you did. You dangled your feet over the side. Donna, she doesn't know what `pick an agenda' means. You say that, and then you throw out topics, but she doesn't know what she's gonna have to do with them. Speeches, charity work, coordinate with the President's legislative agenda…Abbey Bartlet was a force of nature. She could have BEEN President if we'd let her. Helen Santos, while formidable in her own way, is a different creature."

"She seems ill at ease defining herself…"

"Hell, I'd be ill at ease doing that, too! When did you start with the big and lofty? You've got to break this down for her. `Mrs. Santos, if we choose to work for better public education, it's going to mean meeting with these people, it's going to mean working with the President's staff on such and such, it's going to mean speaking at events for groups like so-and-so. If we choose to work internationally to encourage more women in third world countries to seek prenatal care, it's going to mean we need to do x and y and z.' Break it down for her. Do index cards."

"Index cards?"

"Try feeding it to her in bite-sized pieces. It always worked for me."

She smiled. "I sorta thought you were humoring me part of the time."

He shook his head. "You have a talent for seeing straight to the heart of complex issues. This is a chance, Donna, to define *your*self professionally if you want to. She'll listen to you; advocate for your favorite issues. Don't overwhelm her when it's so easily within your reach to empower her."

"Empower her," Donna breathed. "*My* issues."

"Get a new plan, and get back in there. Otherwise, you've got a long few years ahead of you, sitting in this ginormous office with this big empty desk, staring at your sunflowers."

Donna bit her lip for a moment before finally rewarding him with a smile. "Hey, what are you doing here?"

"Nothing."

Donna shook her head, knowing better.

"Lou and Lester think maybe we ought to do an interview together."

Donna exhaled. "I was afraid this was coming."

"Sam agrees."

Donna nodded. "He should. It's exactly the right strategy. This thing is building to a fevered pitch. If we don't do something, it's gonna go from an innocent kiss at the inaugural balls to you were taking me up against a bulkhead on Air Force One years ago."

Josh swallowed hard. "Well, there's an image that's gonna haunt me the next time I get on that plane."

Donna stared at him intently. "I don't want you scandalized."

"I don't want *you* scandalized."

"What you do reflects on the President."

"So he reminded me. But you, too, though."

She hung her head, staring at her pristine desk. "They're gonna want to take it from the beginning. We'd have to relive all of it. From the first campaign to your reasons for bringing me on staff at the White House to…God, to Rosslyn." Her voice trembled. "To the MS, to re-election, all the way to the CODEL. And then…"

"The things we said we'd never discuss again. The things we said were behind us after the trip."

"And we get to go through it again in front of the whole world. Those of them who care."

"You knew this was coming?"

Donna shrugged. "It's what I'd recommend if I were in Lou's place and we were talking about two other overgrown teenagers who made out 10 feet from a rock star while he was on stage performing to a full ballroom."

"Some people are so stupid."

Donna smiled, then became thoughtful again. "I suppose we could lay down some ground rules. You can ask this, but that topic is off-limits. We'd have to pick our battles, but…"

"Yeah," Josh ran a hand through his hair. "Let's not decide today, ahkay? I mean soon, but…not today."

"Do you wanna have lunch?"

"You get a lunch now?"

"Will you let Margaret go long enough to have lunch with me?"

"I think you've been idle so long you've lost your mind."

"Well, I ran out of things to decide about table linens, and I kind of unspooled from there."

"Go talk to your boss," he threw over his shoulder. "Get a new plan, and go talk to your boss."

"Where are you going?"

"I have lives to change. But I'll be done in time for a little late dinner."

Donna arched an eyebrow at him. "I thought you canceled the reservations."

Uh-oh. "I did. But we can, I don't know, we'll do something low-key. Order take-out or something."

Donna gave him a sad little look. "See ya."

"Do some work, will ya?" He grinned before pulling the door closed behind him.

Donna looked around the empty room. "*My* issues."

INT. COMMUNICATIONS DIRECTOR'S OFFICE

"Special delivery," Sam popped his head in the door.

Lou looked up. "Come to guide me out of my wilderness of confusion?"

"He's wound a little tight right now. You were right, and I told him so. Give him a day to mull it over, talk to Donna."

"You know, all this might have been avoided if either one of them had simply given us a little heads-up that this was happening." Sam gave her a look that told her she'd strayed dangerously close to the line. "Sorry."

"This is for your office," Sam said, holding out the now nearly empty accordion file. "Stuff that came straight to Josh's but didn't merit him getting involved."

"Low priority?" Lou took the file from him.

"Yeah. I'm going back up to the Hill for a while," he started out the door. "Nice flowers."

Lou glared at the vase on her desk. "Thanks." 

She stood and carried the file next door. She'd put this off long enough.

 

INT. DEPUTY COMMUNICATIONS DIRECTOR'S OFFICE, CONTINUOUS

Otto looked up as he heard the door close.

"OK. We need to talk about the flowers."

"What flowers?"

"The flowers you sent with your little unsigned note."

Otto quirked a corner of his mouth at her. "Who says I--"

"It's over, OK? It has to be. You work for me now. Not like on the campaign, I mean you *work*…you're my deputy, for God's sake." 

"They're just flowers, Lou, they're not--"

"And who the hell sends an unsigned note? Bombers leave unsigned notes. And serial killers. And have you not been paying attention to what's been going on these past couple weeks since the magazine? If there was ever a cautionary tale--"

"I'm sorry," Otto said instantly.

"Nothing can happen," Lou said.

"I know."

"I mean, thank you, but--"

"I know."

Lou shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot, staring at the carpet. "So I guess this means you don't have any plans for--"

"Nothing can happen," Otto repeated.

Lou held out the accordion file. "You need to go through this, prioritize it, farm out the small fries, tell me how you're dealing with the larger fries."

"You got it, boss."

Lou paused with her hand on the doorknob. "And you're never gonna say *that* again."

CUT TO: INT. COMMUNICATIONS DIRECTOR'S OFFICE, 45 MINS. LATER

"Okay," Otto flew in the door, closing it behind him. "Okay, can I just say something, before we get all…into this?"

Lou knit her brows together. "Yeah…"

"You were always saying that I was young. And I was. I am. I *know* I am. But I'm not THAT young, Lou. I'm not. I knew the risks we were taking, and I took them anyway. Whatever you want to do, whatever you need…I'm here for you. Completely here for you, okay? I just wanted to say that before we got all into it."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

Otto pulled a small box out of his jacket pocket. "I'm assuming, since it's unopened, that you don't know anything yet."

Lou scooted her chair back several inches. "What…WHAT is that?!?"

"An early pregnancy test. I know because it says early pregnancy test on the box. Also because I'm not THAT young."

"What the hell is that FOR?!?"

"You. Us. I mean, did you want me to be there when…"

"Otto, have you hit your head in the last half hour? Where did you GET that?"

"Right where you put it."

Lou stared at him. "Which was where?"

Otto shook his head. "Are you telling me that you didn't leave this in the file that--"

"This was in that file?"

"This was not from you?!?" Otto fairly shrieked.

"No!" Lou smiled genuinely.

"Are you saying you're not…that you don't think you're--"

"I'm absolutely positive that I'm not." She couldn't help herself. He was so damn cute.

"Oh, my God." Otto collapsed onto the couch. "Oh, my God, I can't believe it. I couldn't feel my feet, I swear to God."

"This was in the accordion file I just gave you?"

Otto nodded while scrubbing his face with his hands. "The one with the fries of varying sizes in it. Wait a minute, where did that come from if not--"

"It was…it was given to me by someone else, it was…oh, God. There must have been a…I think there might have been a little switcheroo."

Otto sobered for a moment, then laughed. "I should care, but all I know right now is, that's someone else's bad day."

"You're a real humanitarian, you know that?."

"What do you think we should do?"

"Don't worry about it. It came to me…I'm not exactly sure what I'm gonna do, but it came to me, I'll take care of it."

"It's just that it's been about three months, I mean the timing is just right for--"

"Yeah. Don't you have speeches to write?"

"Don't have to tell me twice." Otto blazed a trail out of the office as quickly as he'd blazed one in.

Lou picked the test up and turned it over in her hands. "You, my friend, are about to ruin someone's Valentine's Day."

CUT TO: INT. DCoS OFFICE, 30 MINS. LATER

"You need me?" Sam barreled though the door full speed ahead.

Lou, who'd wandered behind the desk, jumped. "I thought you were going up to the Hill."

"Morning session is running long. I've got a meeting at 1, then I'll head back up. What do you need?"

"Nothing." Lou clasped her hands behind her back.

Sam furrowed his brow. "Then what are you doing in my office alone?"

"I was…I thought I'd leave you a note, but now you're here."

"Okay…so again we come back to what you needed."

Say anything, Lou thought. Anything at all. Doesn't have to be a good something, just …anything. "Nothing."

"Lou, what the hell--"

"Okay," she closed one door, then the other. "Listen, this is awkward for me, since I have like, zero people skills, but…I was trying to put this back where it came from. I think you accidentally handed it off to me this morning." She laid the test on the desk in front of him.

"That's a pregnancy test."

"Yes."

"That's not mine."

Lou shot him a sympathetic look. "Don't be so sure."

Sam rubbed his forehead. "I don't understand what the hell is happening right now."

"Did you maybe take some files home last night to work on them?"

"Yeah…"

"And you put those files in your briefcase to bring them back this morning?"

"Yeah."

"Well, I think this may have gotten mixed up in the…I mean, I have no prior knowledge whatsoever, but this was in some of the files you brought over today, and I think it must have gotten mixed up in there somehow."

"Lou, I have never seen that before in my life."

"Uh-huh." Lou stared at the desk awkwardly. "How's your fiancée?"

Sam's eyes grew to be the size of dinner plates. "This was in my briefcase?"

"I assume. It was certainly in your files."

Sam stared at the box in growing horror. "This was in my briefcase?" he squeaked.

"I'm sorry, I…I think I'm gonna go now." She began to back out the door. "Listen, don't worry about me, OK? I've already forgotten it."

Sam's knees buckled and he dropped into his chair. "But she knows I hate it when she goes in my briefcase," he whispered to himself.

FADE TO BLACK

ACT III

INT. DCoS OFFICE, 12:35 PM

"I just…don't understand. I just don't understand. I don't understand how this could have happened." Sam paced back and forth in front of his desk.

"It is…hard to understand," Ginger, who'd wandered in on the frenetic pacing session and had no real idea what he was talking about, had long ago accepted that she was trapped, and had made herself comfortable on one of the guest chairs.

"Isn't it?" he said, as if she'd brought the subject up. "I mean, it's not that I don't understand the biology involved, any fifth grader could understand that."

"Sure." Ginger picked at a nail, where the polish had chipped.

"Well, no, that's not entirely true. I mean if fifth graders understood the biology behind it, fewer of them would be finding themselves in a bad position a couple years down the line." He sighed. "Then again, who am I to criticize? I'm a grown man, and I'm in the same position. Actually, I never really paid that much attention in biology, it wasn't one of those things that…I don't even know what I'm talking about anymore."

Ginger cocked her head, watching him with sympathetic eyes. "I never did, or I'd help you."

"I mean, don't get me wrong, it's not as if I hadn't considered this possibility. Or eventuality, really. I mean, I'm getting married."

Ginger clung to the increasingly vague topic by her fingernails. "That you are."

"So, of course, logic naturally follows that…but it's supposed to *follow*. Not precede. We haven't even finalized a date yet."

"Well, you moved. And with this job…"

"I had to explain to her that it needed to be when Congress was in recess. She was less than thrilled. So we're having to shift all these plans already, and now…I mean I know, I shouldn't be thinking of it this way. This is, on one level, this is completely thrilling. In a terrifying kind of way. But on the other…"

He stopped his pacing and dropped into the chair beside Ginger. "God strike me dead for thinking of this from a PR angle, but this would not exactly be a public relations boon for the administration. Not

right now, with the real-life Joanie Loves Chachi show going on."

Ginger nodded her fake understanding. "So…what are you gonna do?"

Sam looked off to the side, deep in thought. "I'm gonna call her. Definitely. I should definitely call her. And tell her we need to sit down and talk. I mean, that's what you'd want, right?"

Ginger shrugged. "Talking is good."

"Yeah!" Sam seemed buoyed. "We'll just…we'll talk. And then we'll figure out what comes next."

Ginger saw her opportunity to escape and stood. "You should call her now."

Sam popped up from the chair. "I will! Hey, thank you, you were a huge help."

"Sure thing." Ginger pulled the door closed behind her and sighed. "Too much time in southern California just…does things to a person's brain."

INT. DCoS OFFICE, CONTINUOUS

Sam dialed the phone and took a few deep breaths while it rang. When his call to her cell phone went to voicemail, he disconnected the call and pulled out his Blackberry, scrolling to a number he hadn't yet used. 

The receptionist at Lauren's new law firm answered on the second ring.

"Lauren Harman, please."

Sam waited as he was transferred to Lauren's new secretary who told him she was out of the office.

"Well could you…this is her fiancé, I…I didn't know if she might be available for lunch, or..." he looked down at his own calendar. "No, wait, *I'm* not even available for lunch, I…listen, do you mind to just have her call me when she has a minute? As soon as she has a minute. Thank you."

He placed the receiver in the cradle and was still staring at it when his door swung open to reveal Ginger. "Your one o'clock's here."

He stood and began shuffling through the papers on his desk. "That's the nuisance lawsuit in Oregon; have you seen the file I had this morning, with the…" He trailed off as she held the file directly in his line of vision. "Thanks. Listen, if Lauren calls, tell her I'll call her back *just as soon* as I'm done with this. Where am I going?" He called on his way out the door.

"Roosevelt Room," she shouted after him.

INT. ROOSEVELT ROOM

He was pacing around the table, willing himself to focus on the matter at hand instead of his personal problems when Ginger appeared on the other side of the glass door and opened it, clearing the passage for a very familiar face.

"Hey," he said softly. "What are you doing here?"

"I…" Lauren looked around the room and laughed nervously. "I wish I knew."

"I tried to call you," he said, closing the distance between them.

"I had my cell turned off."

"How's your first day?"

"I've had less stressful days."

"I know. Listen…I'm glad you're here because I wanted to…I mean, I've got a meeting right now, but…you know what, it can wait. We need to talk for a few minutes. Let me have Ginger tell them to wait." He clapped her on the shoulder and stepped toward the door. 

"Your one o'clock?"

He turned around. "Yes."

"Oregon?" she said without turning around.

He approached her cautiously. "How do you know that?"

"The firm's already given me a case," she said hollowly. "Can you believe that? I haven't even heard whether I've passed the bar in DC yet. But Mr. Whittington says he has every confidence in me."

Sam came around so he could see her face again. "They should. What case?"

"I assumed I'd be meeting with White House counsel, and then we'd be able to talk about this tonight…it wasn't until I got here that I was told that it was going to be you."

Sam felt his stomach hit the floor. "Hanks Whittington. Hanks Whittington is representing the plaintiffs in the nuisance suit."

Lauren nodded, unable or unwilling to look at him. "I'll be heading up the legal team."

"You can't."

She met his eyes. "I don't have a choice."

"No, really, you can't. I've been put on this. This is my assignment."

"Something I didn't know until a few minutes ago, when I was told Mr. Seaborn would see me now."

"But you knew when they asked you to sue the President that I was one of his senior advisers, right? Or have you just not been paying attention."

Lauren let a long breath out through her nose. "You're his adviser, not his lawyer. I didn't think--"

"You're engaged to the President's Deputy Chief of Staff, Lauren, you didn't think this might be a *slight* conflict of interest?"

Lauren swallowed hard. "I voiced my concerns about that when they gave me the assignment this morning. The partners don't share them."

Sam snorted. "I bet they don't. A little unfair advantage isn't cause for concern."

"How many times do I have to tell you--"

"Do you really think this, of all times, is the best time for you to be battling me in the professional arena?"

"I'd prefer not to battle you in *any* arena," Lauren snapped, then frowned. "What do you mean, this of all times?"

"What with the test, and all. I mean…well…oh, what the hell. I found the test. This isn't exactly turning out to be the Kodak moment it's supposed to be, is it?""

"What test?" Lauren threw her hands up. "I should hear about the bar exam by the end of the month. I've passed it before, you know, I'm relatively confident--"

"This test!" Sam hissed as he pulled the box out of his coat pocket. "This test that you so discreetly left in my briefcase for me to find. I ended up accidentally passing it off to a coworker, by the way! You didn't want to maybe just say, `Sam, we need to talk'?"

Lauren stared at the box on the table. "Someone left a pregnancy test in your briefcase?" She cocked her head to the side, face tightening. "And you think it was me."

Sam's face went slack. "I thought…of course I thought…it's just that it wouldn't be anyone else."

"Well…you were very supportive just then, as you believed I was facing a life-altering decision."

"I handled that…poorly. Yes. I did. God," he ran a hand through his hair. "But you blindsided me with the lawsuit, you…we're trying to get settled, we're trying to plan this wedding. I'm trying to do 30 things at once in this job, and you leave--that is, I thought you left this thing in my briefcase as a--"

"We're trying to get settled because you moved us, we're trying to plan this wedding because you proposed, I just found out about the lawsuit myself, and *this*," she pushed the test back across the table, "must be from one of your little GW groupies, because I'm fairly certain I understand the complicated concept of taking a pill every day."

Sam hung his head. "You didn't have anything to do with this?"

"No," she dropped into a chair. "You have a hissy fit if I get within 4 feet of your briefcase anyway. I mean, does that even sound like me?"

Realization swept over Sam's face. "No."

Lauren shrugged, hurt evident on her face.

"Lauren," Sam cooed as he knelt in front of her. "I was…I thought you were…I mean, with the test, you know, I thought…and it just, it overwhelmed me for a second. A few seconds. And by the time you add the lawsuit into the mix, and I mean, seriously, we're gonna have to do something about that, but…this was just very unfortunate timing."

"Yes, it was," she sighed.

"Yes, it was. I'm so sorry."

Lauren opened her briefcase and pulled out a thick file. "Everything pertinent to the suit is in here." She stood and stepped toward the door.

"Lauren…"

"You know what the worst part of it is? Not that you seem to take it as a foregone conclusion that *I*, the one who moved for *you*, should be the one to back away from the suit, but the fact that the idea of your future wife carrying your future child made you so angry."

"It came out wrong," he whispered. "Lauren, it came out completely wrong."

"Lots of things come out wrong with you these days," Lauren said softly. "I have to get back to work."

Sam stood in the doorway and watched her go, wishing for all the world he could take back the last 10 minutes of his life.

INT. COMMUNICATIONS DIRECTOR'S OFFICE, 2:06 P.M.

Lou was bent over her keyboard when Sam appeared in her doorway. "That's bad for your back, you know."

"I have poor posture," she said.

"It's gonna get worse if you keep hunching over that thing."

"Was there something I could--"

"Can I talk to you for a second?"

Lou looked up at the uncharacteristically quiet tone in his voice. "Yeah."

He stepped in the office and closed the door behind him. "I need to talk to you a little more about the thing before."

"I really don't know anymore," Lou shrugged.

"You didn't know as much as you thought you did, apparently," Sam said calmly. "The box didn't come from Lauren."

Lou's face melted into an expression of confusion. "It didn't?"

Sam shook his head. "And it's important to me that you understand that when I gave it to you, it was in no way a sexual advance or meant to be interpreted as any kind of inappropriate…" he sighed. "I don't know where it came from."

"The plot thickens."

"So I'm asking you, because I need to straighten this out and try to dig myself out of this hole I'm in, when exactly did I give it to you?"

"It was in the file you gave me earlier…the stuff from Josh's office. We…Otto…he found it in there. I didn't tell him it came from you."

"Josh's office…" Sam muttered. "Okay."

"Why aren't you up on the Hill?"

"I'm working on some things.

"Hey, did I cause a--"

Sam shook his head and gave her a rueful little smile. "No, I did. See ya."

"Bye," Lou hunched over her computer again, only to raise her head a few minutes later. "Wait a minute, if it didn't come from…oh, I just wanna die."

INT. DCoS OFFICE, 3:48 P.M.

"She's still not picking up her cell," Sam said, replacing the handset in the cradle as Ginger brought an armful of papers in from the bullpen.

"So the talking thing…"

"Did not work out like I'd hoped," he sighed.

"Aren't you supposed to be up on the Hill?"

"I gotta talk to Josh about the nuisance suit."

"You know, I could…I don't know, *call you* when he got back."

"Hey." Donna stuck her head in Sam's open door.

"Look who wandered back to her old stomping grounds," Sam said.

"I couldn't keep myself away," Donna said. "Hey, when you get a second, could you help me?" she asked Ginger. "I'm trying to put my hands on a file that seems to be eluding me today."

"Sure," Ginger said. "I'll call you."

"Go ahead," Sam said.

"You sure?" Ginger studied him carefully. "You look like someone stole your lunch money."

"I'm a big boy, Ginger. Go help her."

"Thanks," Donna smiled as they retreated back to the bullpen.

INT. OPS BULLPEN, CONTINUOUS

"What were you looking for?"

"The files from the Bartlet administration, the previous DCoS files. Josh's old files. Are they still up here?"

"Most of it's been moved into storage," Ginger said.

"What I'm looking for was in your bottom left-hand desk drawer."

"Unless it was a half-used bottle of lotion, then you're out of luck."

"Damn."

"Sorry."

"You know what this means, don't you? More fun with boxes for me," Donna grumbled.

"What is it, exactly?"

"Nothing official, just a big accordion file, I wanted to make a copy of it. I'll be at OEOB getting dirty if anybody needs me."

You do know you can send someone to find it for you, don't you?"

"No, I know exactly what I'm looking for. Besides, some of those files are sensitive."

"Good luck." Ginger wandered back into Sam's office.

INT. DCoS OFFICE, CONTINUOUS

"You need anything?" she asked.

"No," Sam stood and slid into his coat. "I think I'm gonna go back up to the Hill."

INT. OPS BULLPEN, CONTINUOUS

"Margaret said Josh is due back any minute, you want me to put you on the phone with him?"

"No," Sam said. "Just because he's back doesn't mean he'll be free. Find out when I can get in with him next. I need 10 minutes; tell him it's on the thing in Oregon."

INT. NORTHWEST LOBBY, CONTINUOUS

"I'll call you as soon as I--"

"Hey!"

Ginger startled, along with everyone else in the lobby, at Josh's shout. Donna, who'd been halfway across the room, on her way out to OEOB, froze in her tracks.

"What part of `I want to waive my right to a detail' didn't you understand?" Josh came toe-to-toe with Ron Butterfield, sending most of the crowd in the lobby scattering. Donna drew closer slowly, and Sam followed.

"I understood the request," Ron replied calmly.

"It wasn't a request," Josh growled.

"Josh, I understand this is an adjustment. I've already spoken to the detail. They're gonna pull back, increase their distance from you when possible--"

"I. Am. Waiving. My. Right. To. The. Detail." Josh leaned forward. "I can't do the job like this, dammit. I tried to run a simple errand, and he was shutting down stores for me! For God's sake, do I look like Paris Hilton to you?!"

"If the store is of such a small size that the distance protocols can't be maintained, the room has to be cleared," Ron said calmly.

"I went up to the Hill, and he got between me and senators I've known for 10, 15 years in some cases. Do you have any idea how that undermines me when I'm trying to further the President's agenda?"

"Did any of them complain?" Ron asked.

"I'm complaining!!!"

"Josh," Donna said softly.

Josh snapped his head to look at Donna, then let his eyes travel to Sam behind her.

"You need the detail," Donna said.

"No, I don't. This isn't negotiable. This is about me. My life. My freedom. My…" he turned to look at Ron again. "I didn't ask for this, any of it. And I don't want it. Reassign the damn detail."

He turned and skulked toward his office. Sam looked between Donna and Ron for a moment before following.

Donna took a step closer to him. "You can't let him go without the detail, Ron. Not while we've got troops in Kazakhstan. You *know* that. It's not safe for him."

"He's not gonna listen to reason," Ron said to her.

"He's gotta listen to something," Donna said.

"Yeah," Ron said thoughtfully. "He does."

CUT TO: INT. CoS OFFICE, CONTINUOUS

"Margaret!"

She appeared in the doorway.

"I need you to cancel my reservations at Kinkead's."

"You want me to *cancel*?"

"Yeah, I changed my mind about that."

"Okay. Sam wanted 10 minutes when--"

Sam appeared in the doorway at that second.

"Hey, why the hell aren't you on the Hill?" Josh leaned forward in his chair.

Margaret took that as her cue to exit.

"I needed to talk to you about Oregon," Sam said, closing the door behind him. "I think the better question is, why were YOU on the Hill?"

"I met with Brennan."

"On what?"

"I'm trying to figure out what the hell is happening with Baker's confirmation, Sam, what do you think?"

"I *know* what's happening with Baker, for God's sake, Josh!"

"You didn't seem to in staff this morning!"

"No, I didn't want to come out and say in front of all those people we barely know that Toby's pardon has pissed everybody off so badly, that we might lose our nominee for VP!"

Josh exhaled. "You knew. You knew that was what had the yellow dogs in knots."

"Of course, I did."

"And you didn't say anything to me."

"I hadn't yet, no."

"You wanna explain to me why not?"

Sam dropped into one of the chairs. "When we were having problems on the Hill, when did you bring it to Leo?"

Josh rocked back in his own chair. "When it looked like I was in danger of not being able to turn it around, I guess." 

"That's why not."

"I can help you with this, Sam, I know who to call to get things done under the radar. I mean, the Republicans have issues, that's one thing. But we can handle the Dems--"

"Josh…you don't work the Senate anymore. When I need help from you, I swear to God, I will not hesitate to come to you and ask for it. But for the record, I had a meeting set up with Brennan for tomorrow morning. I was paying attention all those years."

Josh laughed tiredly. "Very good, grasshopper." They fell silent for a moment, watching Lester's evening briefing on the television. "Have you seen him since the pardon?"

Sam shook his head. "I knocked on his door once. He didn't answer, but I knew he was there." He sighed. "I just don't understand. I don't understand why he did that."

"Neither do I. Neither does he, I think." He studied Sam thoughtfully. "Are we gonna get Baker confirmed?"

"When you say `we,' do you mean--"

"You're running the show on the Hill. From now on. Can we get it done?"

"I don't know. We gotta find some way to move `em off of Toby."

Josh fell silent again as he watched Lester dodge press questions on his relationship with Donna. "It's always about changing the story, isn't it?"

"Frame the debate. You do that successfully, and you've won."

"How did your meeting on Oregon go?"

Sam sighed. "Hanks Whittington Cooper is the firm representing the plaintiff."

Josh furrowed his brow. "Isn't Hanks Whittington Lauren's new firm?"

Sam nodded. "They've got her heading up the legal team."

"They can't do that!"

"Try explaining that to them. I was…less than adept today at explaining it to her. If something doesn't change, I'm gonna have to recuse myself."

"Well, of course you're not gonna be lead counsel, but I still want you on it, if for no other reason that than you have at least some familiarity with how she works. I'll get somebody from counsel's office with you on it, but if Hanks Whittington can play this way, so can we."

"And yet I feel like Lauren and me are the ones being played." 

"It went that bad, huh?"

"Yeah."

"Hey, you know what you should do? Take my reservations."

Sam squinted at Josh. "Why don't you want them?"

"I do," he said. "Donna doesn't. Margaret!"

"Yeah?"

"Would you call Kinkead's and have them change the reservations to Sam's name?"

"The reservations you just had me cancel?"

Josh's face was the picture of innocence. "You don't think they'd still have them if you called back?"

"I can try."

"Would you?"

"So we've got a place to eat, if I can get her speaking to me long enough to get there."

"You've got an ace in the hole, remember?"

"What's that?"

"Tiffany and Co."

`Somehow I think that's not gonna matter to her tonight. God, it's all just so nuts. I mean come to think of it, I never did figure out where…"

Josh looked up from the memo he'd been reading. "Where what?"

"Donna was looking for a file," he whispered.

"When?"

"Before…Donna couldn't find a file, she was checking the bullpen. She said it had been eluding her all day."

"Yeah, so?"

"Josh, Lester's briefing just wrapped up," Margaret leaned back in the door. "They're on their way over."

"Thanks." Josh jerked his head toward the Oval. "We've got staff. You'll tell me after."

He was through the door to the Oval before Sam had time to protest.

FADE TO BLACK

ACT IV

INT. CoS OFFICE, 5:47 P.M.

"Listen," Sam said as they re-entered the room after senior staff. "You need to talk to Donna."

"I did, Sam," Josh whined. "We're thinking about the interview, okay?"

"Not about that." Sam's tone got Josh's undivided attention. "Listen, I realize…I mean, that is to say, there's no decorum for this kind of occasion, so this is a little awkward. And

I want you to take a few deep breaths before you have, like, an aneurism, OK? But…well…I think this is yours." He pulled the pregnancy test out of his pocket and set it gingerly on the desk in front of Josh.

"Sam."

"Yeah?"

"I know we got a little crazy `long about the seventh inaugural ball," Josh said.

"Josh…"

"But if you're under the impression that I knocked you up somehow, you have a significantly different memory of the night than I do."

"Josh."

"Also, I think, the laws of nature."

"Josh," Sam leaned over the desk. "This was in the file you gave me."

Josh's brow furrowed. "What file?"

"The file with all your inbox materials, from this morning." Sam said. "This was in that file."

"How would that get in--"

"Did you take it home to work on it?"

Josh scowled. "Yeah…"

"Donna's been looking for a file all day."

Josh just watched him, not making the connection.

Sam rolled his eyes. "Josh, I think maybe you need to talk to Donna."

"Oh." Josh said, then it seemed to really hit him. "Ohhh. Oh, my… Ohhhhh."

"Yeah."

"Donna put that--"

"I'm pretty sure. Accidentally, or on purpose, and now she's experiencing remorse and trying to get it back."

"Donna's…"

Sam nodded sympathetically. "I don't know. Maybe."

"Oh."

"Yes."

CUT TO: 15 MINS. LATER

"Well," Sam broke the silence. "Look at it this way. You've got a whole new news hook for that interview now."

"I hate you."

"Join the club. Listen, do yourself a favor, okay? Don't jump to any conclusions. I'm in the doghouse right now myself because of that. If you figure out a way to approach the topic--gingerly--then I think you should--"

Josh tuned Sam out completely as he watched a somewhat disheveled Donna coming down the hall, a large accordion file in her arms and a look of victory on her face. He pushed himself out of the chair.

"Go away right now."

Sam turned to follow Josh's gaze. "Gingerly, Josh."

"Go," Josh said, bolting for the door. He grabbed Donna by the elbow and pulled her into his office just as Sam left, shutting the door to Margaret's.

"Is something the--"

"Just listen for a second, ahkay? You didn't have to…I don't know why you would think you have to drop hints like that. I don't know why you think that's a better option than just coming out and saying, `Josh, there's a thing.'; May be a thing. I don't know."

Donna sighed. "I just…it felt a little silly. I don't want to be one of those women who dictates that she'll have x and y and z done for her on this holiday, which is *completely* commercial anyway. I don't know…I wanted you to do what you wanted to do, because it was your idea."

"That's been a real highlight, but that's not what I'm talking about. I found the test."

"What test?"

"The pregnancy test. This pregnancy test." He scooped the box off his desk.

Donna swallowed, hard. "Where did you get that?"

Josh furrowed his brow. "Are you saying you didn't intentionally--" He shook his head. "Doesn't matter. Listen, I know this is…things are happening kinda fast. Or NOT, depending on who you talk to, and… I don't know if an interview's the answer to getting the press off our backs, and I don't know if I should take you literally when you tell me to ignore Valentine's Day, and I don't know why this always has to be so complicated. But I know that I wish you would have just *said* something."

"Josh--"

"Just listen for a minute. If you'd come to me, directly, I could have told you that I'm not entirely opposed to the idea of…I mean as a matter of fact, I kinda like the idea, terrifying as it is," he said "I don't know how it would work with our jobs, but…oh, hell. We'll quit if we have to. I'll quit if I have to. But pregnant or not, flowers or not, loud sex within earshot of the agents or not, dinner at Kinkead's or not, I *want* to be in this thing. And I want you to be in it with me. And everything else, we'll deal with."

Donna smiled sweetly at him. "I really hate to do this to you after that," Donna said. "But that's not mine. I mean, thank you, really. But that's not mine."

Josh scowled. "So you're not…"

"No," Donna shook her head, but couldn't stop grinning at him. "But can you believe after that little speech you almost make me wish I was? Where did you get that?"

"Sam said it was…I don't understand. It's gotta be somebody's."

The door opened on cue. "It's mine," Margaret said, blushing.

"*YOURS? *" Josh and Donna fairly shouted in unison.

Margaret chewed on the inside of her lip for a moment. "I'm not pregnant, Josh, so there's no need to worry. I thought I might be, but I'm not. You're not gonna have to deal with me going out on maternity leave in a few months." To the stunned silence in the room, Margaret continued, "I guess at some point this morning I accidentally dropped…" she looked at the floor. "Sam's on at Kinkead's at 9, and *you*," she nodded to Josh, "have your evening Kazakhstan briefing in the sit room."

Donna turned to look at Josh. "Go. I'll catch up with you later."

"You sure?"

"Absolutely."

He wanted to kiss her goodbye, hug her goodbye, something. But Margaret was still in the doorway, so Josh started down the hall, feeling somewhat disconnected from his body, before turning around. "Were you just *standing* there eavesdropping?" he turned

and stared at Margaret.

"I have excellent hearing," Margaret said. "You're due in the sit room."

Josh took one last look at Donna, who nodded and waved him out the door before turning to Margaret. "You cannot talk fast enough right now. I want every detail."

EXT. DC GROCERY STORE, 9:13 P.M.

Josh smiled to himself as he slid his change back into his wallet. The note he'd received a couple hours before was folded and tucked in the bill compartment. He'd been well into the Kazakhstan briefing when one of the guards had handed him the slip of paper. He opened it to find Donna's characteristic scrawl.

* "I'm going home to get things cooking for the evening. And I'll start dinner, too. Look serious while you read this." *

It had taken every ounce of his mental discipline to focus on the briefing.

Adding to his joy had been the paperwork to reassign his Secret Service detail, which had been waiting when he'd arrived back at his office. He'd signed it with an almost giddy feeling and left the building without the guards for the first time since inauguration. It felt like being let out of prison. He was so happy, he'd actually walked.

He'd had to settle for stupid supermarket roses…this time of night, that was all that was left. But once he told her the story behind it, he hoped it wouldn't matter. He'd come to an important realization while he was sitting in the sit room, waiting for his pulse to slow to a normal rate again. It had never really been his style, but he felt like turning over a new leaf. And he was going to do it tonight. Supermarket roses, and a silly charm bracelet instead of something from Tiffany's. He'd followed Sam's advice and gone, but nothing there had quite…felt right. This would have to do. She'd be thrilled with anything he got her, of course. Donna had a way of treating a scone like the world's best present. But for their first Valentine's Day, and for what he was about to do, he just wanted it to--

He'd been so lost in thought, he was completely unprepared for the shove from behind that sent him into a side alley. Strong hands held his face against the cold brick as a dull roaring filled his ears.

"You have a beautiful girlfriend, Mr. Lyman," a gruff voice said into his ear. "Beautiful, scared, but alive. If you want her to remain that way, I suggest you listen carefully." To punctuate his point, the man shoved Donna's open wallet in front of Josh's face. "Do I have your undivided attention?"

"Don't hurt her," Josh heard himself whisper shakily.

"That depends on you," the voice said. "Turn around. Slowly." The hands released him.

He felt sure his knees were going to buckle, but he began turning, very slowly, fighting a sudden surge of bile in his throat and a rush of blood in his ears, willing himself to keep it together.

When his eyes fell on a placid Ron Butterfield, he had to lean against the wall to stay upright. He fought for words, but none would come.

"She's fine. She's at your apartment. I set the whole thing up. You want to get mad at somebody, get mad at me."

Josh bent at the waist, rested his hands on his knees, and looked up at him. "What the HELL was THAT?"

"Leo hated the idea of the detail at first, too," Ron said. "He didn't think he was anything special, and he'd been Labor Secretary."

Josh swallowed, heart still pounding in his ears.

"I told him what I'm about to tell you. A terrorist doesn't see you as Josh Lyman, regular guy. A terrorist sees you as someone with access. You're a tactical advantage. And they'll manipulate you any way they can. The detail isn't to protect you from would-be assassins, Josh, so much as it is to keep you from finding yourself in the situation you just thought you were in. Having to choose between the safety of someone you love and the security of your country. The President has to be protected for all threats, external and internal. The only way I can protect the him from you, his closest adviser, is by making sure you're never in that position. In peacetime, there could be more leeway, but while we've got troops in Kazakhstan… People will use the people you love to get to you, Josh. Can you honestly tell me that if that had been a real situation, that there's anything you wouldn't have at least seriously considered doing? You'd die for your country, Josh, I've no doubt of that. But you wouldn't let someone you care about die for it."

"Donna needs a detail too, then. And my mother. If they'll try to get to me through--"

"We can't protect everyone who knows someone who knows the President. We really *don't* have the resources for that. But we monitor them, and we investigate all threats. If something started brewing, we'd get into it. Don't worry."

"Don't worry!" Josh barked a harsh laugh. "You scare the living hell out of me and then tell me not to worry." He sobered. "Have there been threats? Since the magazine? Has Donna received threats?"

Ron shrugged. "There are always threats any time someone gets increased media coverage."

"I want a detailed report of every--"

"That's not how it works, either. You know that. There's a difference between threats and credibles. You'll hear about any credibles. The others will just make both of you crazy."

Ron bent and scooped up the long-forgotten flowers and placed them in Josh's still trembling hands, along with Donna's wallet. "If you'd give this back to her for me, I'd appreciate it. She doesn't know how I was gonna use it, by the way, so you don't have to…you and I are the only people who know what happened here. If anyone else ever finds out, it will be because you told them."

Josh stared at the wallet. "The paperwork…I signed the waiver for the detail to be reassigned before I left."

Ron quirked his mouth at him slightly. "I never received it. Rodney has the car waiting at the curb. Have a good night, Josh."

INT. JOSH'S APARTMENT, 10:02 P.M.

"Hey," Donna called from the kitchen when she heard the front door open. "I was beginning to think you'd been hung up. I believe, in about ten minutes, there will be lasagna. It actually looks pretty edi--" she rounded the corner to find Josh standing, shell-shocked, just inside the front door.

"Ron?" she asked as she came to stand toe-to-toe with him.

Josh nodded wordlessly and pulled her wallet from his coat pocket.

"He scared you straight?"

Another nod.

Donna wrapped her arms around his shoulders, then pressed a kiss to his temple. "Don't take this the wrong way, Josh, but good."

Josh wrapped his arms tightly around her. "I want you to promise me that you're careful. I don't want you walking home alone after dark."

"I don't when it's late."

"And I want you reporting every piece of mail you get. Every e-mail. Everything. Immediately. Promise me."

"I do."

"Donna, if something happened to you, I couldn't--" he buried his face in her hair, hugging her even tighter. "Promise me you will make *sure* nothing will happen to you."

"I'm careful, Josh. I am." She pulled away from him. "You promise me you aren't gonna try to ditch the detail again?"

He shook his head.

Her eyes traveled down to the now-flattened flowers in his arms. "What's that?"

"Oh," he held out the bouquet. "It's something I've been trying to give you since Germany."

"Since Germany?"

He nodded. "Things kept…getting in the way. It…I didn't know if I should say something then, I mean, you were in pretty bad shape, and then things started happening fast, and they just…kept happening. And before I knew it, we were barely speaking."

"I don't think I ever told you," she said, refusing to meet his eyes. "I don't think I ever told you how much it meant to me that you came."

"I knew."

"Doesn't matter," she said. "I opened my eyes, and…and everything hurt, and I didn't know where I was, or what was wrong with me, but then there you were, and everything was okay. Once I knew you were there, I felt like everything would be okay. Thank you."

"I didn't have a choice," Josh said. "I had to come. I had to see you with my own eyes, had to know how you were. And then, after all that happened, I couldn't bring myself to say it."

"What?"

"That I loved you," he blurted.

Donna stared at him, unsure her hearing wasn't playing tricks on her. "You loved me? In Germany?"

"I forget how long it is I've loved you," he said with a sheepish grin. "But I wouldn't deny it any more in Germany. I couldn't. Anyway," he nodded at the roses in her arms. "Those are long overdue, but I just wanted to…I don't know, I…well, I guess I just wanted you to know that."

She leaned up and kissed him tenderly, lazily, running her fingers into his hair.

"Do you get that I love you, too?" she whispered, forehead leaned against his when they parted for air. "Do you understand, in no uncertain terms, that I've loved you for…well, forever, I guess?"

He nodded, pressing his lips to hers again.

She looked down at her roses. "You did pretty good today," she said. "Do you want your Valentine's present now?"

He shook his head. "I got a note that you had something cooking."

"Three more minutes."

"Cut the oven off," he whispered against her lips.

"And then what?"

"And then, we'll give Rodney a show he won't soon forget," he grinned.

She smiled. "Say it again."

He took her face in his hands and kissed her. "I love you, Donnatella Moss."

Donna smiled. "I love you too, Ginger Snap."

END


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